Montana Archery Elk - Matt comes west

[Lawnboy]

I talked to his wife the other night and she said he's about to burn up. It's like 85-90 each day. She mentioned that they got close on one but that was it. He's calling from a sat. phone so it's expensive. He's coming home tomorrow night and I'm sure we'll get the update Sunday morning.

 

[----]

Here's some pictures and a story to hold everyone over til Fin gets back. Hopefully he doesn't mind me piggybacking his thread for a while.

I rolled in late last night after hiking and sweating my balls off for three days. Like Lawnboy said, it was 80-90 degrees the whole time, with no cloud cover whatsoever. I didn't run in to the OYOA crew, as I pretty well stayed in my little hole the whole time.

Here's the sunset on Monday as I got in to the unit-

I had two bulls within range the three days, the first was a dinky six point that was flying solo, that I spotted right before shooting light on day two. I cow called him in to forty, couldn't get a shot, and spent the next couple hours leap frogging him in the timber trying to cut him off while he was feeding.

The second bull was actually spotted while still messing with the first. He was a much, much bigger six point that had a dozen or so cows with him. They were out in the open in a stock pond on a big sage plateau.

I circled down wind of the herd, and crept up in a little coulee to about 300-400 yards. I sat there for a few minutes, until the bull decided to bugle. I cut him off mid bugle with one of my own, and it was on. He instantly started towards me on a line, grunting and bugling the whole time. I snuck up on top of the little coulee, looking across another tiny coulee to an opening. I glassed the opening at 37 yards. I figured If I could call him in to the opening, I'd take the shot. I had set my limit at 40 yards, but was still comfortable with that distance.

I had to coax him a little with a couple cow calls and another bugle, but after about five minutes he came up over the ridge and dropped in to the coulee with my opening. He started down just to the right of the opening, and I let out one more cow call, he turned broadside and walked perfectly into my opening. I came to full draw, put the 40 yard pin on him, and released.

The bull didn't even flinch. My mind started to race as I tried to figure out what went wrong. I didn't really have time to think about it though, and was able to get another arrow nocked right away. The rising sun was at my back perfectly so the bull was still oblivious to me. I drew again, put the forty yard pin on him, and released.

The bull buckled and ran back out on to the plateau. I threw up my glass, and could see my arrow sticking out of him............ About an inch below the top of his back.

I was obviously shooting high, and completely blew an opportunity on a REALLY awesome bull. I didn't have time to add up inches well, but there isn't a unit in the state where that bull wouldn't have been a shooter for me.

I spent the rest of that day and most of yesterday tracking him and his cows. I never got on him again or found my arrow, but I heard some bugling yesterday that I'm hoping was him. I wounded him, but he shouldn't be any worse for the wear when it's all said and done (I hope).

I'm pretty disgusted that all my practice and hard work ended up with such a poor result and a blown opportunity like that. I am thankful though that I didn't wound the bull worse. if the shot were just below the spine, it could've turned in to a lot uglier situation. That's the first animal I've ever knowingly hit and lost, and it's definitely a sinking feeling.

It was an awesome trip, and I'll definitely be back at it if I get the tag again. The heat kind of sucked the energy out of me and kept the elk in the timber most the time, but still a really enjoyable hunt.

Big thanks to Matt (thecrittergitter) on a great lead to where a few might be holed up, he was dead on the money.

 

[----]

By the way, if anyone wants to reassure me that a backstrap hit is just a flesh wound, that'd be cool.

 

[Mudranger1]

just a question here...how could you possibly hit the backstrap and not hit the spine?

 

[choc dogs]

Randy, I remember a thread a couple of years ago when someone wounded a deer (backstrap) with a gun, and ended up shooting it a couple of weeks later, the wound mostly healed. There's also a thread where someone found a broadhead in a bull, in the backstrap area, last year, didn't look much the worse for wear. I don't know if that makes you feel better, but it's what I remember

 

[Oak]

By the way, if anyone wants to reassure me that a backstrap hit is just a flesh wound, that'd be cool.

I've seen a survivor.

Here's some classy pictures in front of the garage with my raggy CO bull. BTW, when I was cutting out the backstraps I found a broadhead lodged just above his spine. It had a pus pocket around it, but the skin was healed.

 

[Gerald Martin]

Randy, That bull is fine if the hit is as high as you thought it was.

 

[The Hedgehog]

A couple years back I removed two separate 4 inch pieces of carbon arrow from an elk I shot's backstrap and last fall I removed a 125 grain muzzy broadhead from an elk's backstrap that a friend shot. It was completely healed and I couldn't tell there was any wound other than something hard inside the meat when removing the loin.

This fall is the first time I've ever hit a bull elk with an arrow and didn't recover it. About 5 inches of the arrow is in the elk's shoulder, or at least was when it ran off. I hope I can catch up with that one someday.

 

[----]

Thanks guys, that is reassuring to hear about.

Mudranger, I think I still hit spinal bone, as something besides just meat stopped the arrow, but was way too high to hit the cord, where all the damage would occur. I think whoever kills this bull will find my arrow like greenhorn mentioned. Last I saw of him he had ten inches of arrow sticking out either side of him. Basically looked like he was running with an arrow just setting on his back.

 

[dexnrex]

There is about 6" of thin bone on the "hump" of a bull elk above the spine at the shoulders. If you were only an inch into him it's just back strap and the thin bone of the "hump". I'm sure it was no more than an inconvienience for the bull.

A few years ago I hit a bull about 12" down from the hump and a little forward and knocked him down with a spine shot. A quick follow up from 20 yds. and it was over. I was quite surprised the spine was that low at that location.

 

[Breaks Runner]

A few weeks ago I arrowed an 82+" antelope buck hit high like that. Greenhorn and I chased that buck about 7 miles until he went onto a place we couldnt go and he was pretty damn healthy the last we saw of him. I expect him to back in the area when rifle season opens...he wont run off this time.

 

[Dinkshooter]

The old Back attack. He will be fine. Next time get it together and don't blow it

 

[Big Fin]

Back late last night. Trying to get the stuff de-junked and cleaned, as I am supposed to hit the road again tomorrow afternoon. Wife is not too happy about that, but hopefully she will let me have an extra hour today for posting the story.

The summary will be HOT, HOt, Hot, and hot. Windy and skeeters will be another part of it.

Will post sometime today.

 

[mdunc8]

I can only imagine. I wandered away from the river last week while working and the squeeters were ridiculous. Glad I didn't have to spend an entire week with them. Looking forward to the story.

 

[Big Fin]

Gonna try get some of this done. Wish I had taken more pics, but I did not. Sorry.

Matt arrived Monday in the early afternoon. All of his luggage showed up, fully intact. That is a good start. After picking him up, we drove to Troy's place and loaded the mounds of camera gear and were on the road.

We got to my old camping spot around 10PM and had camp set by 11PM, amongst the swarms of skeeters. Driving in while it was dark did not give me any time to scan the effects of the big fires in August. Oh well, I was comfortable that we would find bulls in spots I had previously hunted. With that, I was sleeping like a rock while Matt and Troy stayed awake listening to the bulls bugling outside the tent.

Well before daylight, we were loading packs and preparing for the first day. One bull had bugled like crazy just behind the tent, so we decided if he was a volunteer, we would accommodate his invitation to play the game of hide and seek.

Seems he was well trained in the hide and seek game, as within seconds of the rising sun clearing the horizon, he went silent. It was already very warm, but I expected them to at least give us an hour or so of daylight before this shut up.

We glassed every inch, looking for the guy making the noise. No luck. We dropped off the bench and headed to the last known sound of his activities. It was a risk to hope he would still be in the same place, but all archery hunters know that archery hunting is a series of gambles with the knowledge that sooner or later the gamble will pay off.

We had now descended into the pines breaks and listened intently. Nothing. After another twenty minutes I gave a bugle, something I hate to do in pressured public land areas, but figured it would be the best way to get a reply. Again, nothing.

It was now getting hot, real fast. The skeeters were swarming, even this far away from the water. I told Matt I think they would be heading for the river, so we should start working our way towards the ridge that separated us from the river. He agreed and we turned east with confused looks and really no clue where this bull could have went.

We had traveled about two hundred yards when around the corner of the ridge, the unmistakable glunk-glunk noise of a bull pushing cows came from the other side of this small ridge. We were not in a good place to set up, as the now mid-morning sun had our ridge illuminated. Moving forward would be like shining headlamps in the dark as the daylight lit us up in this opening.

Matt and Troy moved to a small cluster of trees just up the ridge. I dropped down further, putting the hunter and camera in a direct line between me and the last noise of the bull.

I had no idea where he was headed. I made one small series of cow calls, hoping he might reveal his location. Nope. I listened and listened, but he gave no more clues of his whereabouts.

Having nothing to lose, I started a series of cow calls with much more demand and intensity. I walked around in the bottom of the draw, calling frequently, hoping to give the impression of a cow that had lost her way and was looking for some friends. May as well been playing Elvis tunes, given the lack of response I received.

Frustrated, I snuck up to Matt and Troy to see what they had seen. Last they heard, the bull was moving away from our location and gave one small bugle from the next drainage, most likely saying something like "Fooled you" as he pushed his cows to the safety of the thick timber and brush.

It was a scorcher. By 10AM, the temps were hotter than I have ever experienced in late September. At least I was now able to see what these hunting grounds looked like following the fires. Very green for having just burned five weeks ago. The monsoons of the previous two weeks had greened things up beyond what I had expected.

Given the elk would be bedded, I told Matt it would be best to use the rest of the morning for recon. So we climbed to the top of the ridge overlooking the areas I had hunted in the past. Wow, the river and reservoir were so high, the bedding cover I had counted on was nothing but twigs breaking the surface of the water that was now at least 20' deeper than last time I had hunted here.

Major change is in order. Won't be any elk bedding there. Time to relocate the bedding areas, and fast. This was a five day hunt, and no time to waste, given how difficult archery hunting is on public lands. The rest of the morning produced some good scouting results.

We retired to camp and sought shade from the 90F+ temps. A little wind would sure help. As tired as I was, I could sleep most anywhere, so I embarked on a three-hour mid-day siesta.

When I woke, Matt and Troy were sitting in the shade of the truck, prepping gear for the afternoon. I told Matt I wanted to stay high on the ridges, glassing the best locations, knowing it would be late in the evening before the elk left their beds. My plan was that if this evening revealed no elk, I could eliminate my top two locations and we would start the next morning in a completely different area.

With packs loaded with as much water as we could fit, we stated hiking to an area that I know would give us an overlook of a large expanse of the Breaks. From there we could see or hear most any elk that might be using that area.

It was not a complete waste of time. We saw lots of sharptail, some cool sunset, and found enough wind on this ridge to keep the hungry skeeters at bay. And, seeing no elk, and hearing no bugles, we finally donned the headlamps and walked back to camp. Cross that section of the unit off the list.

Ate a quick sandwich and went to bed hoping that tomorrow would be better than the previous day, only to be awaken by 50mph winds trying to convert the wall tent into a flying trapeze. Not sure if anyone else was in the Breaks Tuesday night, but if you were, I hope you had a sturdy shelter. No chance of hearing bugles in this wind, so I pulled the pillow over my head and concentrated on sleeping.

 

[Big Fin]

The wind had died to a nice 10mph by the time the alarm went off. Actually provided some relief from the skeeters who seemed to have night vision and used the cover of darkness to launch attacks on their innocent victims. Damn, it was warm. I quickly fired up the truck to get a reading on the temp. Holy crap, 61F at 5:30AM. This is getting ridiculous. I was hoping that would be the high temp for the day.

With a quick breakfast bar, a bull started bugling far to the south east. He was joined by another. Wow, that was good news. Off we ran, and with a broken foot soon to be surgically repaired, that was no small feat for Matt.

The bugles were probably a mile off. We traveled as fast as we could before the sun came up. By that time, we were now within a few hundred yards. These bulls were in a contest to see who was going to make the most noise. Unfortunately, that usually attracts a lot of attention in a popular public land unit.

Troy spotted a bull about a quarter mile away, standing on the ridgeline that would take him down to the river. I looked at Matt and told him that a single bull looking for cows was exactly the set up we were looking for. He smiled and started hobbling that direction. I broke out Miss September and assembled her legs, quickly catching up to Matt and Troy.

By the time we popped back up in proximity of the bull, I watched him step off the ridge, down into the Breaks that would take him to the river, more than a mile to his north. I told Matt I thought our best chance was to get out in front of him and try to guess which of the two drainages or ridges he might travel on his way to bed, or in search of cows.

The sun had now cleared the horizon and all bugling ceased. I had hoped he would give a few toots on his horn to grant us a heading on his location. Not having that benefit, I sidehilled to the mid-level of the ridge forming the east side of the basin I thought he would travel. We glassed intently, but no bull. Damn, I guessed wrong.

I motioned to Matt that we needed to cross this basin and sidehill to the next ridge and check the basin to the west. There are only two drainages leaving this crest, so if he was not in this basin, he would be in the next one.

Bad deal for Matt, as sidehilling is usually a pain in the foot for anyone. A guy with his condition, relying on a brace and enough athletic tape to build a cast, is not going to enjoy the next three hundred yards. Matt did nothing but smile, knowing his first archery elk encounter could happen in the next hour.

I angled a little further down the ridge, as a traveling bull would have made more distance than I had originally planned, due to the time it took for us to investigate the first drainage. Unfortunately, the sun had crept even higher in the time it took for us to get here.

We were lucky to have a small amount of burned timber to provide some cover as we rounded the angle of the ridge. I glassed the opposite side as we crept along. Still no noise from the bull. I whispered to Matt to keep and eye below, as he may have made it out below us in the time it took to get over here.

We moved forward around a bid burned out tree that was lying dead on the ridge in front, providing the benefit of cover and and obstacle to get to the little flat rock that would allow us to glass most of the drainage.

As I cleared the stump of this dead snag, I noticed antlers about 100 yards to my left, slightly below in the drainage. The bull had not moved but a couple hundred yards from where he had bailed off the ridge.

I froze. I told Matt to move up with me, as the bull was below. My plan was for him and Troy to set up in the cover of this big dead tree and I would drop back and see if I could call him in for a shot. With all the dead timber, shooting and filming lanes would be a challenge, but we had no choice. This is where the encounter would happen.

I noticed the bull was looking away from us. Good....or so I thought. He was looking at his lead cow who was looking right at me. Where did these cows come from. As I looked further, there were ten cows standing at full alert based on the posture of their leader. The bull seemed without concern.

All three of us stayed completely motionless. The cow bobbed her head as she tried to identify the danger that could be approaching while the rising sun burned into her eyes.

She had probably been to this rodeo before, so rather than wait for a positive identification, she decided it was time to move out. She turned and with no noise or notice, was heading back up the ridge to where we had seen the bull come down.

As she went, so did her clan. And so did the bull who seemed clueless as to the reason for concern, but given his attention is focused on those girls, where ever they go is where he will go.

Troy filmed as the elk moved out of the basin and skylined about 200 yards away. I gave a few pleading cow calls in desperate hope that he would see if he left one of his gals behind, but to no avail. They stood for a minute trying harder to identify what might made the lead cow uncomfortable. This being the fourth week of being chased and called by hundreds of archers, they decided it was best to error on the side of caution.

With that, they scrambled the last few yards out of the Breaks and ambled onto the grassland bench. There, obvious to every hunter in the unit, they would at least be unapproachable with archery tackle.

We circled east as we ascended the ridge above, thinking they may come upwind and head back down to the timber in search of more cover. Nope. As we peaked over the crest, to the south was a band of elk standing in the grass, looking for a place to hide. The bull, evidently disagreeing with the tactic, decided to make some noise, which I am sure attracted more hunters.

All we could do was stand and watch where they would go. Not for purpose of pursuing spooked elk, but to learn where they would travel to get back to their bedding cover below. As expected, they found the longest string of burned timber, dropped down in the bottom of it and headed to their beds, in a very long detour from what they had planned.

Good news was that the bugling of this bull had raised the vocals of another bull in some burned timber on the edge of the grasslands. We glassed him from about 1,000 yards. He was moving fast. And on his tail was another archer. Funny to watch a hunter try to keep up with a moving elk in this broken country. No need to report who won that contest.

So Matt had his first encounter with a bull. Not within shooting range, but a good encounter nonetheless. And, with a good 6X6 bull that controlled a group of cows. Definitely a P&Y bull.

I wish I had noticed the cows when the bull was standing on the ridge. They had already bailed off and I was left with the impression we were after a satellite bull. Those are the opportunities you hope for, as a bull with cows this late in the season is a tough gig.

Oh well, Matt had a big smile, Troy had some good footage, and I had enough skeeter bites to make me a candidate for a blood transfusion. All in all, a great morning hunt.

Having had the same foot surgery Matt is scheduled for, I know what he was going through. I instructed he sit and I would walk two miles back to camp and grab the truck and drive to the road nearby. He protested, but knowing what a five day hunt in this country meant for his foot, I just started walking while he was telling me to wait up. I think he finally realized the futility of the argument and hopefully the benefit of the saving his foot for pursuits, and he and Troy sat down in the grass to do an interview for TV.

The afternoon was another scorcher. This would make the evening hunt pretty much useless, but we decided to at least do more recon. We went to the ridge where the bull and cows had been this morning. We walked the ridge top all the way out the final drop into the heart of the Breaks. From there we could glass the river bottoms and the two main drainages we expected the elk to be using.

With about 45 minutes of light remaining, Matt glassed up a group of cows and spikes working their way up the hill toward us. I had a cow tag. This was going to be tempting. They seemed oblivious to us. Matt asked if I wanted to take one.

Well, I wanted to, but I didn't think it was a good idea at this time. Matt had traveled all the way from upstate New York. If I shot this cow, we would spend the rest of the night packing. We would have to drive to a meat locker in this heat. All of that would take a lot of time and energy away from Matt's chance to shoot a bull. That would not be fair to him. He kept encouraging me. I told him later in the hunt I might think about it, but today, we would use these cows as decoys to attract a bull he could hang his hard-to-draw tag upon.

We left with little light and the stars starting to appear. It had been a great day, even if Matt's tag was still in his pocket. Sleep came easy this night.

 

[Big Fin]

The following morning we were up well before daylight, heading to where we had left the cows feeding the night before. It was another very warm morning, bordering on hot.

In the dark, we heard distant bugles in most every direction. Who said that late season archery is not a time of active rutting? Not me.

As we reached the ridge crest where the trail would take us down into the Breaks, we heard a very loud bugle that seemed close enough to investigate prior to dropping off the bench. He sounded to be down in some burned timber that reaches like tentacles across the low spots of the the grasslands.

With the sun not yet above the horizon, we headed his direction. I worried it was another hunter. Such worry was put to rest as I glassed a very nice 6 pointer moving cows from the grasslands into the burned Ponderosa. The wind was perfect.

As we neared, the bull shut up. Another bull to his east continued to yell obscenities at this bull and challenge his manhood. Our bull would not take the bait and remained silent. After all, he had the goods, so what did he have to gain by getting in a fight with an intruder.

It was nice to not have to bugle and just keep moving toward what seemed like and intersection of two rutting bulls. We kept moving and listening. It had been twenty minutes since we had heard the bull bugle. We waited in the shadow of some burnt trees as the sun cleared the horizon to our east.

As we glassed and listened, two mule deer bucks decided to jostle in practice of what will happen in about six weeks. One had some good mass and junk, even though he looked like a younger buck. Matt was licking his chops. He had deer and elk tags in his pocket, so this smorgasbord of potential targets was playing out better than he could imagine.

Soon after the sun rose, all activity stopped. The mule deer left for shade and the elk continued their silence.

I could glass a ribbon of water running down the bottom of a coulee I suspect the elk would head to. Matt lead the way down the cut, while we listened and hoped for a bugle. Finally, we heard a scream directly above us and maybe 100 yards over the small finger that dropped down into the coulee on our right.

Matt and Troy took cover on the shaded sided of the coulee, using some brush and one green pine for their protection. I moved just out of site and set up the decoy. I waited for the bull to sound off one more time, as it was my intent to cut him off and see if I could bring him to the lip of the coulee where Miss September would hopefully bring him in for a closer look. In spite of my wishes, he did not bugle again.

We sat for twenty minutes. The other bull had gone silent. A flock of sharptails flushed from the ridge top right over my head, as if something had spooked them. I was hopeful the elk were culprits.

After another ten minutes, all was quiet. No bugling, no footsteps, nothing. I decided to cow call. Immediately, a bugle was sent our way, but it seemed further away than before. The heat and rising sun seemed to be sending the elk to their beds way too early for our benefit.

I made pleading calls over the next ten minutes, with no response. Finally, I eased forward to Matt and Troy. We decided to climb out of the coulee and see if the elk were still in the opening. If that didn't work, we would top out just down wind of where we had seen the mule deer, and they might give Matt a chance. Sounded good.

We fought the grade to the rise above. From the shade of a few trees, we saw no elk, only the fingers of even more coulees we could not see from our previous locations. Matt and Troy decided they would go north to look for the mule deer. I told them I was going south a few hundred yards to look into some of these other places we had not previously discovered.

Matt and Troy found me about a half hour later, glassing the top tines of a great bull bedded in this coulee. The bull has bugled from his bed, responding to the pesky dude that had been harassing him all morning. I just happened to be glassing some brush across the draw and about 50 yards from his location at the time he bugled. From that, I caught sunlight glimmering off the tops of his antlers as he turned his head back to the west. What a stroke of luck.

The bull was bedded on the opposite ridge about 400 yards to our southeast. There was not a living tree in sight, just a burned hillside with lots of new regrowth brush from the fires of 2008 and 2009. The wind was blowing very favorably from the southeast. We could come in from the northwest and be looking right down into this little finger draw where he was bedded.

With that plan, we started our big circle to the west, dropping down into the main coulee and up the other side. The wind held steady. The rain of the last few weeks had made the walking very quiet, relative to what it normally is in this dry grassland.

Upon getting to the little finger ridge to the northwest of the bull, we dropped our packs. Troy checked tapes and batteries, grabbing a spare of each. Matt checked his gear. I broke out the decoy and readied my calls.

I explained to Matt that we wanted to get within 100 yards and then hope he would bugle. If so, I would reply instantly and hope he would get out of his bed and come our way. We had seen one cow bedded downhill of the bull, but from our angle, she would not be a factor. The plan was set and we moved forward.

Not having the benefit of knowing exactly how the drainage laid out, I worked my way to a dead cedar and told Matt and Troy I would set up here. They would move forward to a cluster of burned pines, which if I was correct in my estimate of where the bull was bedded, would put them within 80 yards of the bull.

They moved forward ever so cautiously. When they reached the burned trees, they set up. Matt ranged the shooting lanes and Troy set up to cover the great number of thick yet possible filming lanes. They looked to me and gave me the thumbs up.

I was ready. The next bugle would be hit with a blast from me, challenging this bull to come and check me out. Now it was a matter of who would blink first. After twenty minutes, it seemed as though I would have to blink first.

Troy gave me the "I can see him from here" signal, which is Troy pointing to his eyes and then pointing to the bull. That was good. If they could see him, they were close. Looking at how thick it was below me, I wonder what it looked like below them. The shooting lane options from my location flat out sucked. Oh well, we had made our stand and it was here where the encountered would happen, if at all.

Finally, Matt and Troy looked at me as if they thought maybe I had fallen asleep. I was waiting for my chance. Troy gave me some signal that I was not sure of, but I thought it was the "bull is sleeping" signal. Not good for our cause.

Thinking the bull was sleeping, I decided to give a short high pitched bugle, hoping he would think it was a young spike or raghorn moving in on his cow. With that, I gave something that sounded more like a screech owl than an elk.

Instantly, the bull replied. I cut him off in mid-bugle with something more mature sounding. Troy looked at me and gave me the walking fingers sign, which means he is up and coming our way. Matt slowing repositioned his body and I saw him clench his release and put tension on his string. Troy was moving the camera ever so slowly from his left to right. My heart was racing. My mouth was dry. If he bugled again, I am not sure I had enough spit to muster a call over my diaphragm reed.

I watched Matt and Troy, as they were my only indication of what was going on to my left. I kept an eye to my right in case the bull circled and came in quietly from the opposite direction, as they often do. We sat and waited. It was quiet, except for the wind rattling the scraggly limbs of the burnt pines that now looked like a haunted forest.

I kept watching Matt and Troy. After twenty minutes Troy gave met the shrug that says, "Where the hell did he go?" I had no idea what was going on. I shrugged back.

Troy and Matt started whispering and talking in some abbreviated sign language, neither understanding what the other was gesturing. I could tell a plan was being concocted. I worried about moving if the bull had closed the gap, but with this much time unfolding, there was really not much to lose.

They started moving forward very slowly. So slow, it was hard to tell they were even making progress. The wind was holding steady and disguising what little noise their footsteps might emit. Painfully, I wondered what was going on in front of them and what the picture looked like.

Too many characters, so I have to continue in the next post.

 

[Big Fin]

All of a sudden, I hear noise and I see Matt move to the lip of this small cut, with Troy right over his shoulder. I see some cows starting to move off. Where the hell were all of these women hiding? I stand to see what is unfolding, Matt and Troy now directly in 50 yards in front and slightly below my position. I see Matt start to draw as the bull emerges from a deep ravine none of us could see from our position. From my angle, the bull looks to be 30 yards away, but walking straight away. Not a shot with archery gear.

The bull continues to walk straight away as if confused why his cows left him all alone. I started cow calling like crazy. The bull stops, and looks back over his shoulder. Matt seems ready to launch and arrow. The bull needs to turn and give him some angle. He does not, but resumes walking out the path his cows left on, leaving Matt no ethical shot. Finally the bull picks up the pace as his cows have now disappeared around the ridge.

I ease up to Troy and Matt, hoping for a download of what happened. I was not there to see, but this is their recital of the event, spoken fast and excitedly as one would expect after a close encounter with a great bull.

Seems that upon my squeaky bugle, the bull rose from his bed to reply. When I cut him off, he started his way toward us, weaving through the burned pines and downfall that separated him from us. As he neared 30 yards, he walked right under the lip of the ravine immediately in front of Matt and Troy. He completely disappeared.

Matt and Troy expected to see antlers coming at them as the bull emerged from what looked like a very small depression. When that did not happen, they thought the bull had re-bedded in what seemed like a small dip in the terrain.

With that thought, they had hoped they could ease forward and locate his antlers, giving a lock on his position. I doing so, they would re-set and give me the bugle signal, hoping to get the bull out of his bed and open a shooting opportunity. Or, just shoot him right there.

As they eased forward, a cow to their left and buried in a pile of brush locked on to them at less than 20 yards. She stood to inspect. The brush then looked like gophers popping out of their holes, as the rest of the herd rose to see what had alarmed the one cow.

They did not run, but eased off. As they eased off, Matt and Troy moved forward to get a shooting lane it what looked like a little depression from their location. As they approached the lip, the depression was now 25' deep and a cow was emerging about thirty yards across from them. They set up as the bull, who had bedded with her, followed her out of the cut.

In all of this, the bull never stopped and never cleared any brush until getting out of the ravine and gaining the bench a mere 45 yards across. It was there where he stopped and looked back over his shoulder, but gave no decent shot.

So close. So damn close. Matt was really excited. Had the bull stopped and turned a little sooner, his chance would have been provided. But, sometimes that is not how it unfolds.

I am sure a lot was going through Matt's mind as that bull stood almost straight away at 45 yards. Matt is an accomplished archer and is one of those guys who would have a way better chance at sneaking an arrow in that narrow window than I ever would. He had traveled a long distance and given the weather and conditions, his opportunities will probably be sparse. His foot was surely killing him, and this terrain was not going to give him any slack in the next three days.

Yet, in spite of all those demons on his shoulder tempting him to shoot, Matt resisted. He turned to the camera and talked about how exhilarating it was and this type of encounter is why he had come to Montana, ignoring his doctor's advice, and struggled around these Breaks. And that is why I smiled real big when I watched him say that to the camera.

That kind of encounter provides a lot of excitement and chatter. We spent the next twenty minutes talking like little kids about how cool that was and what could have been different. How none of us could see the big shaded cut just out of sight and below there position, where a cow was bedded and lured a bull to do the same.

With that, we walked back to the trailhead, sweating profusely in the late morning sun. We would have a lot to talk about as we headed back to camp for a quick lunch and a well-earned nap.

Hopefully the evening would be this exciting.

 

[Big Fin]

After some pretty bland food and a good nap, we were refreshed and excited to head out for an evening hunt. The bull of this morning followed his cows into an area that seemed to be getting the most hunting pressure. We decided to look elsewhere, thinking our odds on that bull, with many other hunters, were probably slim.

We decided to head into the basin where Matt had glassed the herd the night before, hoping a bull would have worked his way to that group of cows and claimed them as his own. It was still very hot as we made our way into the Breaks and down to the highest point overlooking the river.

We again took a position near the burned log that seemed to be the shadiest spot on the ridge. From there we could glass most everything we needed and it gave a very good view of where the cows fed out from their beds the evening before.

Not long after taking our glassing positions, we heard footsteps coming from behind. I turned, amazed that elk would be up and moving down the ridge in this heat. I should have known better. I quickly heard the chatter of two bowhunters coming down the trail.

They were surprised to see us and asked how we got in there. Not wanting to be a smart ass and say, "We walked" I told them we came in the same way they did. They asked were we planned to hunt. We told them our plan, and to their credit, they stated they would head east and hunt the next basin. Such disruptions are common in our filming, as we are hunting accessible lands with the general public. Not something other shows probably have to contend with. which is why I feel our show has more of the average hunting experience than what other shows can depict when they are on exclusive estates, etc.

After a while the hills got more quiet and the sun started to drop in the west. With about 45 minutes of daylight left, Matt spotted elk coming from the same coulee, this time with a nice 6 point bull in their herd. He and Troy would go after them as they headed toward the river for water. I would stay back, providing any calling that was necessary.

As they neared the last tall ridge above the river, Matt stopped. A group of mule deer had pegged them. Unfortunately, the most likely escape route for the deer would go right down the ridge to where the elk had headed.

Not much could be done. Within a minute, the lead doe snorted and bolted down the ridge, taking her friends right into the middle of the elk. Matt and Troy waited for the noise to clear before easing to the final cusp.

As they looked down, the elk had now made it to the river and were watering, feeding, and bugling 400 yards below, but cautious enough to be looking up at what might have scared the mule deer. With fading light, not much could be done.

It was decided to sit there until dark, and fight the skeeters emerging from the willows, hoping we would notice some elk and some patterns that could help us in the morning. Two groups of elk emerged from the willows and fed below. Each had a nice bull running the show, and three other satellite bulls were circling for any scraps to be had.

With that, we backed out and climbed out of the Breaks with our headlamps leading the way. We shared a dinner of antelope lasagna, prepared by Mrs. Fin. She puts it in food saver bags and freezes it. All we need to do is boil a pot of water and let the bag sit in there for about ten or fifteen minutes and homemade food becomes a welcomed dinner.

Bellies full, we retreated to the tent and listened to bulls bugle in the distance. Ah, life is goooood.

Matt and Troy moving in on the elk, only one ridge later being nailed down by the muleys.

 

[Big Fin]

We woke very early, determined to be the first hunters down in the bottoms where we had left the elk the night before. Not wanting to scare the elk, we walked in without headlamps, using the last of the moonlight to guide us down the trail.

Elk were very vocal in the darkness 500 yards below. The wind was screwed up. Blowing mostly up river, or from the east, but swirling up and down at the intersection of every little coulee.

As the sun gave glassing light, we noticed a herd with three bulls right below us. We circled back behind the crest of the ridge, dropping down behind a ridge with the benefit of the east wind. As we traveled, the wind became less favorable. We had now dropped to the best point available, with the wind being what it was.

I peeked over the lip and below us was the herd and the bull, grazing unmolested at 150 yards. With this wind, we were stuck, until the sun popped and created a better thermal for us to continue our attack.

To our east, a bugle rattled from over the next small rise. With the decoy deployed and Matt/Troy set up in the shade of a small pine, I quickly replied. My bugle was met by a challenge from the east and from the herd bull below. Again, I bugled immediately. The bull to the east replied. It sounded like he was coming our way, so I shut up.

The bull seemed to be at our same elevation and sidehilling to see who was new to the neighborhood. The cows below were watching up the coulee just to our east, as though they could see the bull. The herd bull below had now positioned himself between the herd and us. All eyes were looking up the hillside and to our east. Something was coming. We could hear his walking.

Then, complete silence. Who would call first? We sat. As we watched, the sun was creeping higher and the wind was coming uphill from the elk, as much as it was coming from the east. This was all good.

We would wait for the bull to our east to make his way to us. If that did not work, we would drop down further and continue our pursuit of the bull with the herd.

Now, there was a bugle coming down the ridge to our west. It was sounding off often. It didn't sound like an elk. Shortly thereafter, two hunters appeared on the ridgeline below us and skylined themselves to the herd and their bull. It took about a half second for them to decide to head to the willows and leave this place. As they did, many more elk left the coulees below us, including the bull that was bugling to our east.

In the matter of a few minutes, a brigade of elk, cows, calves, spikes, and bulls, were wading the river and taking sanctuary in the flooded willows. And with them went what I thought was going to be the best chance so far.

Where those hunters came from, I don't know. But, that is why I am so hesitant to do much calling during elk hunts. Calling usually attracts more hunters than it does elk. Nothing can be done about it. It is public land and they have the same right to be here as we do. So, you pack your gear and search for a new location.

We did just that. But rather than climb out of the Breaks, we moved east and set up in the shade of some pines overlooking a drainage further east. We surmised that basin had not been disturbed that day. From there we would spend the day taking turns glassing and napping.

Being bored, I decided to hike further east and glass back down the river. I spotted one group of three cows and a different group of five cows, the later of which were bedded in over a foot of water. The shade provided by that strip of willows must have provided relief from the heat and I suspect it is hard for skeeters to attack the half of their body submerged under water.

I returned to Matt and Troy. They had glassed over a dozen elk in the willows below. Obviously, we could not go in after them, so we decided to wait them out this evening.

I wish I could say they marched out in front of us with plenty of filming light, allowing Matt to arrow one on his second to last day. Not the case.

With a half hour of light, the cows emerged from the willows. Matt encouraged me to go after one for my cow tag. I resisted, knowing tomorrow was his last day and that this group of cows would do more good to attract bulls than could be gained by me pushing them back in the willows.

So, we donned our packs and pointed our headlamps uphills. The trail had now become familiar and I think I could have navigated it blindfolded. Behind us, we heard the bulls start bugling, providing hope that tomorrow morning would be the day.

Matt and Troy devising a plan of how we could hunt and film the elk bedded in the jungle just a quarter mile below.


The coolest sunset I have ever seen in Montana.